Sarah stayed for another hour.

She asked questions in a quiet, methodical way — not like an interrogation, more like someone carefully lifting pieces of broken glass to see what shape they made together.

She wrote everything down.

She interrupted only to clarify a date or a name.

When she finally closed her notebook, she said, "I need to ask you something, and I need you to think before you answer."

Genevieve nodded.

"Did Julian ever suggest you sign anything else?

Before today.

During the pregnancy.

Anything he described as routine, or standard, or something all couples do."

Genevieve was quiet for a moment.

"Six months ago," she said.

"He brought home a document.

He said it was a medical proxy.

In case something went wrong during delivery.

He said it gave him the authority to make decisions on my behalf."

"Did you sign it?"

"He said it was standard.

He had it notarized at the kitchen table." She paused.

"I signed it."

Sarah wrote something down.

"Do you have a copy?"

"He said he filed it."

"He did." Sarah's pen stopped moving.

"I've seen it.

It wasn't a standard medical proxy, Genevieve.

It included a financial power of attorney.

Broad enough to cover your accounts, your inheritance from your mother, and any assets acquired during the marriage."

The monitor beside the bed beeped steadily.

"My mother's inheritance," Genevieve said slowly.

"That's what this was about."

"Your mother passed fourteen months ago."

"Yes."

"And left you the house.

And the investment accounts."

"Yes."

Sarah set her pen down.

"Julian's company has been in serious financial trouble for two years.

I have the filings.

His personal accounts are nearly empty.

The business has three pending creditor actions." She looked at Genevieve directly.

"He needed access to your assets.

The psychiatric evaluation was meant to establish incompetence.

The power of attorney was already in place.

If you had signed those papers today, he would have had everything he needed to move your money within the week."

Genevieve looked at her daughter.

The baby was asleep now.

Her chest rose and fell in the small, certain rhythm of someone who did not yet know what the world could do.

"He would have taken everything," Genevieve said.

"And then what?

What happens to her?"

"That's what I intend to find out."

A knock at the door.

A nurse leaned in.

"Ms.

Mercer?

There's a man outside.

He says he's your brother."

Genevieve's head turned sharply.

"Daniel?"

"He's been here for two hours.

He said he didn't want to interrupt."

"Send him in.

Please."

Daniel Mercer was forty-one, broad-shouldered, and looked like he had driven through the night.

His jacket was wrinkled.

His eyes were red at the edges.

He came in, saw Genevieve, and stopped in the middle of the room.

"Gen." His voice broke on the single syllable.

"I'm okay," she said.

"Come see her."

He crossed to the bassinet.

Stood over it for a long moment without speaking.

Then he pulled a chair close to Genevieve's bed and sat down heavily.

"I got your message at four in the morning," he said.

"The one you sent before they went in." He looked at her.

"You knew."

"I thought I might need someone to know where I was."

"Julian called me last week," Daniel said.

"Did you know that?"

Genevieve went still.

"No."

"He told me you'd been struggling.

Emotionally.

He said the doctors were concerned.

He said he might need me to support a decision about your care." Daniel's hands were flat on his knees.

"I told him I'd need to speak with you directly.

He said you weren't taking calls."

"He had my phone."

Daniel looked at Sarah.

"I'm her attorney," Sarah said.

"What did he want from me?" Daniel asked.

"Your cooperation," Sarah said.

"Or at minimum, your silence.

If your sister's own brother believed she was unstable, it would have supported the evaluation."

Daniel stood up.

The chair scraped back.

"Where is he?" he said.

"Right now.

Where is Julian?"

"Daniel." Genevieve's voice was firm.

"Sit down."

He looked at her.

"Sit down," she said again.

"Sarah is handling it.

I need you here, not in a hallway doing something that helps his case."

A long moment.

Then he sat.

Sarah's phone buzzed again.

She read the message.

Her expression did not change, but she stood up and moved toward the window, away from the bed.

Genevieve watched her.

"What is it?" Genevieve asked.

Sarah turned.

"Julian's attorney contacted my office eleven minutes ago."

"Already?"

"He's fast." Sarah looked at the message again.

"He's proposing a settlement.

Full custody to Julian.

Genevieve retains visitation.

All financial assets frozen pending a competency review." She looked up.

"He wants an answer by nine tomorrow morning."

Daniel made a sound that was not quite a word.

Genevieve looked at her daughter sleeping in the bassinet.

"What does that mean?" she asked.

"If I don't answer by nine?"

Sarah held her gaze.

"He files for emergency custody first thing tomorrow.

On the basis of the psychiatric evaluation.

And he asks the court to freeze your accounts pending the competency review."

"Can he do that?"

"He can file for it," Sarah said.

"Whether a judge grants it depends on what we put in front of them." She paused.

"There's something else.

His attorney mentioned a witness.

Someone who will testify that you made threats during your pregnancy.

A named individual."

"Who?"

Sarah looked at the message one more time.

"Your former best friend," she said.

"A woman named Cara."